


thinking of you (and your laughter and your smile)

by orphan_account



Series: in love with you (so hopelessly and painlessly) [4]
Category: The Martian (2015)
Genre: (  ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Cutesy shit, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, They're on Earth, couples doing couple stuff, hickeys tho, just barely, mark is a terrible cook, morning fluff, so it doesn't go with the series!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mark tries to cook and impress the love of his life (and fails).</p><p>Or the one where Mark tries to distract Chris (and succeeds...somewhat).</p>
            </blockquote>





	thinking of you (and your laughter and your smile)

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i was really in the mood for some beckwatney and i know this is all over the place and probably full of mistakes and doesn't even make sense I'm truly sorry i just had to throw something out there and tbh i might read it over and delete it because its a little awkward in places but not rn bc I'm lazy so i guess its up for now ??

Pancakes. 

After nearly two years on Mars Mark Watney's demise will be pancakes. 

Fan-fucking-tastic. 

He grumbles over this as he scrapes the burnt, dry mess in the pan into the garbage bin, tossing the spatula into the sink. He has about two pancakes that look okay and he's pretty much out of batter so Mark sighs, pulling the egg carton out of the fridge. He's never been good at cooking eggs either. There’s probably only one thing he can cook which is bacon. Which leads him back to why the fuck did he think it would be romantic to try and cook Chris breakfast? 

When Chris cooks breakfast it's romantic because he knows how to actually cook. He knows how to make a nice scramble and heavenly blueberry pancakes. But when Mark cooks it's like he's practically setting himself up for a divorce. 

Which won't happen because he's not even married yet. 

Which also won't happen if Mark keeps burning his fucking pancakes. 

Mark whisks the eggs, milk and the salt and pepper, attempting to be cool and chop onions lightning fast like in the cooking shows. It's dumb and doesn't work, obviously, so instead he ends up with a sharp, stinging pain and a bloody left index finger. He fishes around for the first aid kit, pulling out an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid because wow this cut actually seems to be getting bigger. When Mark's sure he won't get blood into the eggs, he cooks them (they're borderline burnt but that's okay because borderline burnt is not quite burnt).

"Mark, babe?" Sleepy and soft looking, Chris watches from the kitchen doorframe, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

"Good morning," Mark says cheerfully. 

Chris makes a noise and shuffles over, hugging Mark. Arms wrap tight around Mark's torso and he would've thought Chris was asleep against if not for the tiny kiss pressed to his cheek.

“I made breakfast.” He announces, scooping out eggs into two plates. He places one awkward pancake on the plates as well. Thank god Mark made plenty of bacon so he puts 6 strips on each plate, putting them on the table.

Chris gives him an appreciative smile, sitting down beside Mark. He sips the coffee first, knee knocking against Mark’s.

To be quite honest, the pancakes are fucking gross. Mark abandons his after two bites but Chris throws him a thumbs up and continues eating. It’s pretty obvious he’s only eating because he doesn’t want Mark to feel bad so he takes pity on Chris and taps his shoulder.

“They’re raw, babe, don’t eat them.” Mark insists, forking up some eggs. He holds the fork to Chris’s lips, who takes it happily.

And then he coughs. Mark knows his eggs are bad, mostly because they taste bad and uncooked but also because Chris’s eyes are watering and he’s gulping down water.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and I swallowed them.” Chris apologizes, wiping his mouth.

“Nah, the eggs aren’t edible either.” Mark shrugs, chewing thoughtfully on a bacon strip. He feels bad for making Chris eat his health hazard food.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mark, I really appreciate it.” Chris says sincerely when he’s finished his bacon. He covers Mark’s hand with his own, using his other hand to sip his coffee.

Mark tilts his head to the side, pressing a kiss to Chris’s cheek, “no problem, sweetheart.” He makes a kissy face. Chris chuckles.

“If you don’t mind, could you…?” Mark trails off, motioning to the stove.

“Sure, what’re you in the mood for?” Chris smiles sweetly, setting down his empty cup.

“An omelette would be nice,” he admits and Chris laughs, nodding, “coming right up.” 

It should be hard for Chris to cook when Mark is latched to his back, nibbling gently at the back of his neck and ear but he somehow manages to present an omelette (an actually edible, non burnt omelette).

“Aren’t you hungry?” Mark asks when he notices there’s only one omelette.

Chris shakes his head, resting his chin on his palm, “I’m not hungry anymore.” He shrugs but Mark can’t help but feel a little guilty. He probably scarred Chris from his toxic pancakes and eggs. So he ends up airplaning a few forkfuls of eggs into Chris’s mouth. It’s gooey and cheesy and absolutely great.

After breakfast (and the silent pact made to never, ever let Mark cook again), they take turns showering and dressing.

“We’re going to be late.” Chris calls, running a hand through his damp hair. Mark groans, shuffling out of their room with his jacket.

“Why can’t we just cancel and order Teriyaki BBQ instead?” Mark suggests and Chris stares at him with a bitch face. Mark loves his crew but it’s kind of hard to want to spend time together when Chris is standing by the door in jeans that frame his ass like a beacon of light from heaven and a leather jacket.

“Because we all agreed and Commander’s burgers are a god sent gift.” Chris laments.

Mark grumbles, crowding Chris against the door. He puts a hand on Chris’s waist, nuzzling into his neck. Chris smells like shower gel and cologne and it’s absolutely amazing. His own scent is buried deep beneath his clothes but Mark knows if he pulls at all the right places, the smell and taste of Chris becomes evident.

“Mark, babe, we really have to go.” He trails of breathily as Mark sucks lightly at the skin under his jaw. Mark mumbles a halfhearted ‘no’ and continues, alternating between sharp nips and suckles. Once he’s proud of the blossoming red and purple and pulls away, satisfied.

“Are you happy?” Chris sighs, exasperated but leans in for a kiss anyway.

“Couch. Now.” Mark growls between kisses, sucking harshly on Chris’s bottom lip. The leather jacket gets flinged to the side and Mark grins as Chris pushes him down on the couch. Long legs wrap around his waist when Chris straddles him, pulling Mark back in hungrily.

And if they show up to the park 2 hours late and covered in hickeys, well, the crew have learned to just let it be.

**Author's Note:**

> did u enjoy??? yes??? no?? most likely no but that's ok !!!!! :D


End file.
